


Fortune Favors The Kind (John Wick/Reader)

by Bobbles



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, F/M, John Wick - Freeform, Sad, father daughter, mentor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobbles/pseuds/Bobbles
Summary: Just some fluff basically, John being a DadTM





	1. Chapter 1

You never thought you'd be stuck under the thumb of the Russian Mafia, but your father made some pretty bad decisions, and had used you as collateral to try to spare his own life. So they took you when you were young, and had been training you ever since, trying to make you an assassin that could rival that of the Baba Yaga. They took everything from you, you had no semblance of a normal life, you were stripped of your empathy and emotions for others. The only things you could ever think about were death and destruction. 

Those who had trained you in combat, weapons, and espionage had deemed you fit to start. It was only fitting that your first mission began on your eighteenth birthday. Most eighteen year olds would be hanging out with their friends, maybe getting a tattoo, not using the guise of an escort to assassinate a high profile drug lord with debts to the Mafia. Once you had gotten him alone in his room and put a bullet in his head, something clicked as you watched the life drain from his eyes. Your training failed you as you lingered rather than flee the scene. You had never killed anyone before. All of those years of being told to not feel anything, you couldn't help but let emotion wash over you as his blood began to seep into the bedsheets. Shock gripped you as a tear rolled down your check and you gasped as you heard the door crash behind you, before you could react two burly guards grabbed you roughly. You were still in a haze as you began to struggle meekly against the guards, with one swift motion one of them hit you in the temple with his pistol and your consciousness faded. 

~

You awoke hours later, your head was pounding and you could feel that you were tied down to a chair. There was duct tape covering your mouth. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking to adjust them to the light. There was a single bulb above you, illuminating your figure. You could see the rough outlines of men that loomed just out of the light. Your training kicked in as you began counting silhouettes and formulating a plan to get out. One of the men stepped forward, you were confused as you realized he was one of the higher-ups in the Mafia's chain. Viggo's eldest son.

He shook his head softly as he approached you, "Oh little белладонна, you had so much promise..." He ran his hand down your face, before gripping your jaw hard, "But you showed weakness, you know my father will not be happy." He said, his tone still soft. "You will be punished."

You cursed inwardly, this must have been some test, and you had failed. Your mind was racing, you meant nothing to these people, so your punishment would most likely be torture or death. Or both. You inhaled sharply as another figure came out of the shadows and slapped you harshly across the face, and another came with a knife to slash you across your collarbone. You dug your nails into the wood of the chair as you saw the brother pull out a revolver, you were sure this was the end. But before he could raise the gun to you, you saw the door to the room fly open as a tall looming man came in, using the body of a guard as a human shield as he began mowing down the men in the room. Within an instant you recognized him, the Baba Yaga himself. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you heard the sounds of bullets flying above you. You began trying to free yourself from your bonds as you prayed he wouldn't kill you too.

~

When John was infiltrating the safe house Iosef was being kept in, he did not expect to find a young girl strapped down to a chair being interrogated by one of the Tarasov children. He began taking down the men in the room, he didn't have time to reload as he was being approached by more guards, so he threw his weapon, smacking a man right between his eyes and sending him to the ground. He began fighting hand to hand. He observed his opponents and his surroundings. He was slightly outnumbered, there were still four men and the brother, and he had already been worn out. He was reminded by the dull pain in his lower abdomen as he began deflecting punches and flipping men on their backs. 

He kept this on for a while, but he felt he was getting into a nasty situation, as he was being pinned to the ground with a knife dangerously close to him. Before he even realized what was happening, the scared little girl from before came back into action. You let out a yell as you jumped up, flipping both you and the chair back onto one of the guards, shattering the wood and freeing your limbs. Lightning fast after you had pulled that maneuver, you had grabbed a gun from the ground. The man who had John pinned looked behind him could only see the barrel of your pistol before you shot him. You slowly stood up and kicked the man's body off of John's. 

John sat up and looked at you, then back to the corpse that had been a threat to his life just moments earlier. He looked back up at you, and just stared for a moment. You were so young, he definitely pegged you as a hostage of some sort, let alone someone with training. The thought of it made him angry, you were just a kid. No child should have to live the life of an assassin. John wordlessly stood up and brushed the dirt off of himself. "We should get out of here." He stated simply, and began walking towards the door. "I'm John, by the way." He grunted.

You followed. "(Y/N)." You said softly, still a bit in awe that you were spared by the greatest assassin you'd ever heard of. You knew you should fear him, but you trusted him. After all, without him you'd probably be dead in a ditch. You took the lead in guiding you and John out of the safehouse after he had killed Iosef. You knew the layout of the building incredibly well, as this was where most of your training took place. 

~

You were sitting in the passenger seat of John's car now, you started silently ahead as he put the car into gear and began driving. Before long, he was the first to break the silence. "Why were you down there?" He asked, his voice gravely and rough but his tone was soft and inquisitive. 

You looked at him before looking back down at your feet. "They were training me to be the perfect assassin, but when they sent me out on a mission I showed emotion and didn't live up to their expectations." You explained, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared out of the window. 

John gripped the steering wheel, "You're just a child." He said, his voice becoming more strained, "Why were you down there, before that mission?" He looked at you, besides the large gash on your chest, you looked like an average teenage girl. He couldn't imagine how you had gotten ties to one of the deepest rings of the Mafia. The same one he was in before he had went into retirement.

You began to shake as you thought of your despicable excuse for a father, tears clouding up your vision. "My father, he..." you paused, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, "He has his debts, and instead of fixing them himself he decided to pawn my life to save his own. But they just killed him anyways." You let out a dry laugh, running your fingers through your hair. 

John felt even more angry than before, how could anyone give away their own flesh and blood? Let alone give them right into the hands of a ruthless crime organization. "It sounds like he deserved it." John mumbled, looking out at the road ahead of him. His mind began to wander as you didn't speak up again. He thought of Helen, his heart sank as he imagined her smiling face. They had always talked about having children together, and she had always wanted a little girl. He couldn't imagine just throwing away something like that. John pulled up to his home, and put the car into park. 

He got out and opened your door for you, "Let's get you cleaned up."

~

You winced as John gingerly dabbed antiseptic onto the large gash across your chest. It was strange seeing this man who had a reputation for being incredibly deadly and focused be so gentle and kind. "I'm sorry, I know it hurts." He said, continuing to clean the wound. 

You looked around, seeing the empty dog crate and all of the photos of John and Helen together, but yet the house was eerily quiet. You had heard of John leaving the business, and about his wife. You looked back down at him as his eyes were focused on your wounds, you felt so bad that everything had been taken from him. His voice broke your train of thought, "(Y/N), do you have any other family?" He asked as he stood up, finished with your first aid.

He knew the answer before you even said it, no. He knew looking at you that you were like him, no more family, everyone who loved you was long gone by now. He knew what he had to do, what Helen would've wanted him to do. "You can stay with me, if you'd like." He offered. 

You were stunned, you had never been treated with as much kindness as John was giving you right now. "Seriously?" You asked meekly, and he nodded. You couldn't help but smile, "That'd be really kind, thank you John." You said. 

John smiled and nodded. He never thought he'd be anyone's mentor, or father, or anything of the sort. But he knew he had to help you, he didn't want to world to keep screwing innocent people over. He was going to help you, and take you under his wing, whether it be trying his best to give you a normal life, or teaching you everything he knows about life as an underground assassin. He would do it, he finally had a chance to create something positive out of all the shitty things fate had thrown at him. To do something that would make Helen proud.

Fortune may favor the bold, fortune may favor the brave, but it also occasionally favors the kind.


	2. Eggs and Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff basically, John being a DadTM

After John finished up his business with the Tarasov clan you both fell into a routine. You been living with him for about a month now, and had been taking care of the adorable grey pitbull John had picked up. It had taken you a while to get used to living in the suburbs, John told you it wasn't very friendly to stare down the neighbors while walking the dog. So you slowly adjusted to being a bit more normal. 

One thing you couldn't shake were the nightmares, you'd constantly have vivid dreams of figures from your old life snatching you up and forcing you back into that Russian safehouse, back to those grueling tasks they made you do. The thoughts made you shudder. Whenever you woke up from one of these, you had trouble going back to bed, so you'd opt to take the dog out for a walk if he was up. This morning was one of those mornings. You had just come home from an early morning walk with the dog, and decided to watch some TV before John woke up. You sat on the couch scratching behind the pitbull's ear as you watched TV, seeing all the ads reminded you of the first day you stayed with John, he took you shopping for new clothes.

~

You had stuck to him like glue, never having been to a mall before the sheer quantity of people put you on edge. Your eyes were constantly darting about as you looked over all of the pedestrians and the various shops. You were wearing one of John's shirts, which was quite large on you, and a pair of Helen's old pants. It made John's stomach churn a bit, having to touch or move Helen's things, as he hadn't touched them since she passed, but there was no way you'd fit into his pants, and he wasn't going to bring you out in public with the slinky party dress you had on the night he had met you. He could sense your unease and gently laid his arm around your shoulder, calmly he spoke, "(Y/N), you're safe here, just take a deep breath and try to look for some clothes you'd like to wear." He led you into a simple clothing shop. "Pick out whatever you'd like, just make sure you grab stuff you need too."

You took a deep breath, giving him a shaky smile as you tried to push all the negative thoughts out of your head. "Okay." You said, beginning to sift through the racks upon racks of clothes, you grabbed a few pairs of jeans and leggings, as well as some nice shirts and some undergarments too. You came to his home with practically nothing. You enjoyed the freedom of being able to stroll about the place without fearing for your safety, and enjoying the feeling of the various textiles across your skin as you browsed. You walked back up to John, holding the clothes in your hands. 

After you had checked out, you had both realized you were starving, and went to the food court. After you had settled in and began slurping down your lo mein, John pulled out a small bag from the shop you were just in that you failed to notice earlier. You perked up, "What's that?" You slurred through your mouth full of noodles.

John chuckled at your antics, and pulled out a pair of earrings. They were very pretty, they were silver hoops with a small gemstone dangling down the center. "I saw these in there and thought you might like them." He said simply.

You smiled, taking the earrings into your hands and looking them over. "Thank you so much John, you've done so much for me you didn't have to get th-"

He cut you off with a raise of his hand, "Please, (Y/N), it's not a problem. You deserve something nice."

~

You hadn't taken them off since that day. You instinctively moved your hand up to touch your earlobe, feeling the cool metal of the earring brush against your fingers. You began flipping through channels, unable to find anything interesting to watch.

You heard the sound of footsteps and water running upstairs, signaling John was up and moving. You decided to give up on finding something interesting to watch and instead went over to the coffee pot, brewing some for the both of you. The one stereotypical teen girl phenomenon you did adhere to was loving a good cup of coffee.

John came down stairs, water beading on the ends of his long hair. He saw you had made coffee and his eyes brightened a bit. He walked over and poured himself a cup, the pitbull happily trotted up to John as he was pouring. He leaned down and gave him a scratch before filling up his food dish. After taking a sip, John broke the silence, "Are you hungry?" 

Your stomach answered for you, growling a bit, your face flushed, a bit embarrassed. John chuckled softly, "I take that as a yes, you like eggs?" He asked, opening the fridge and shuffling through its contents. John usually didn't keep much in the fridge, but ever since you started living here he was much better about keeping a healthier stock of food. No more living off of coffee, toast, and 79 cent noodles. 

You nodded, "Yeah, can I help you cook?" You offered, setting your drink down and walking into the kitchen. John gave you a soft smile and began handing you some items from the fridge.

John helped you start frying the eggs, giving you little tips and tricks along the way. Like that you don't have to worry about flipping the egg if you put a lid on top and steam it. "You're doing great, kiddo." He said as began frying bacon in the pan next to yours. You couldn't help but smile, it was so nice having a positive figure in your life. Someone who was willing to guide you without judgement or ulterior motives. The smells of bacon wafting into your nose made you smile, you loved breakfast. You hadn't had a real home cooked breakfast in a long time, and you had missed it. 

Eventually, the two of you had made your plates and were eating at the kitchen table, it was quiet for a moment as you both began eating. The food was delicious, you were happy you didn't end up breaking any yolks. John tossed a small piece of bacon to the pitbull eagerly circling his feet. John spoke up, causing you to look away from your plate. "Y'know, before Helen passed away, she had always wanted kids." He said softly, your eyes drifting to one of the photos of Helen and John on the walls. Your heart ached, John had told you about how wonderful Helen was, and you could tell his love for her.

You got what he was implying, John had practically become your father. He was your main caretaker and made sure you were clothed and fed and taken care of. "You would've been an excellent dad, John." You took a sip of your coffee. "You practically are." You said the last part much softer, looking into your mug rather than at his face.

John smiled, "God, (Y/N). She would've loved you." He said proudly, looking across the table at you. You were about to say more, but before you could, the doorbell rang.

For most people, this wouldn't be a problem, but for you and John, it was odd. The sound of it was almost haunting, the hollow ring echoing in the front hall. Your eyes widened, you hardly had visitors here, considering the house was tucked away on a hill, so this was unusual. You were about to get up and peek out the window, your fork held like a weapon in your hand, but as you stood up John gestured that you sit back down, eyes glued to the door. You slowly went back into your seat, setting your fork back down. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing up, you knew whatever was on the other side of that door couldn't be good.


	3. An Unwelcome Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old acquaintance resurfaces, uprooting the small sense of normalcy you had created with John.

John slowly opened the door, all of the joy on his face just moments earlier faded away into an impassive emotionless face. Santino D'Antonio. John knew what he was here for before Santino could even say hello, or rather,

"Ciao, John." Santino spoke, a small smirk teasing at the corner of his lips. He felt rather confident, despite staring at the Baba Yaga himself. He knew he had the upper hand at the moment, and relished in that as he shook John's hand.

"Santino." John replied cooly, glancing behind Santino at the cars and guards. He made eye contact with what appeared to be his right hand woman, her eyes locked firmly on him. 

"May I come in?" He asked, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking on his feet slightly.

John stepped back slightly, "Of course." He replied in Italian, John quickly looked back to where you were still sitting, body practically frozen. He knew that Santino was a dangerous man, and it would be preferable that he didn't know you existed. But he had his home surrounded, so it wasn't like you could leave. "Café?" John continued, walking down the hall.  He sent Santino into the living room, and gestured for you to follow him as we went to the coffee machine. 

John was staring straight ahead as he slowly poured a single cup of espresso, he turned to you. He sighed softly, then turned and began walking towards the living room, making sure you were right behind him. He set the cup in front of Santino, and sat down. 

As you walked in you saw Santino scratching your pitbull, and you felt anger like a pit in your stomach growing. You didn't like this guy's attitude, his smug smile, his Italian suit, and you definitely didn't like his hands on your dog. He looked up at you as you entered, a flash of surprise crossed his face as his eyes looked you over. "I was sorry to hear about your wife John, but I didn't realize you had a puppy... and a child." Santino spoke, you felt uncomfortable under his gaze, but maintained eye contact. 

You and Santino turned as John spoke, his voice was quiet yet firm, "(Y/N), can you take the dog out, please?" He asked you, you looked at him with a bit of surprise before cooing to the pup and leading him out of the living room. 

~

As you exited, Santino leaned back in his chair, his body relaxed, yet his face still carried that devilish smile. "Listen John, in all sincerity," he leaned forward, staring right at John. "I don't want to be here." 

John shifted slightly, never breaking eye contact. "Please. Don't." He spoke, his tone still firm and unwavering. "I'm asking you not to do this." 

Santino gently shook his head, chuckling softly as he reached into his pocket, "Nobody gets out of the business and gets to waltz back in without repercussions, John." He pulled out the marker, the rich gold of the marker contrasting with the dark coffee table as he slid it across the table towards John. "If not for what I did, you wouldn't have any of this." He swirled his finger around the room, "That beautiful girl of yours, this house, all of it, is in part, mine." He tilted his head slightly, but John was not moved.

"Take it back." His gaze was stone cold, hands clasped together.

The smirk had finally faltered from the Italian's face. "No." 

"Take it back." John repeated, his face was impassive, but his thoughts were swirling. He couldn't go back in now, not now that you were in the picture. He had gotten you out too, and he knew this world would tear you to pieces if you were forced to go back. "Find someone else."

Santino threw his hands up in disbelief, before grabbing the marker and flipping it open, revealing John's fingerprint. "This is your blood John, you know what this means." He continued. He couldn't believe John was doing this, Santino's blood boiled at the fact John was refusing him, despite the marker. Despite the rules. He practically flung the marker back to John's side of the table.

John looked down at the marker, "I'm not that guy anymore." He said, pushing down memories of his task, and thinking about Helen, and Daisy, and you. He slowly slid the marker back over to Santino before standing up, and staring down at him. "I think it's time for you to leave." 

~

Your fingers were wrapped so tightly around the leash your knuckles were turning white, you had no clue what was going on between John and Santino. You didn't know how big of a threat he was, or why he was here, all you knew your gut was screaming at you that something was wrong. The pup could sense your unease, and was whining at your feet, nudging you gently with his wet nose. You reached down to gently stroke his head, he clearly wasn't in a walking mood, so you began to go back towards the house. The closer you were to John the safer you felt. You wanted to make sure you were there in case anything happened. 

You hastily opened the back door, Santino was gone, and John was standing in the room, gently holding a photo of Helen and himself and stroking the frame. You quickly unhooked the leash from the dog's collar, letting him roam free as you slowly came up behind John. Before you could ask about what has transpired when you were gone, the two of you heard the sound of glass shattering in the room over. You turned to eachother, eyes wide. It felt like slow motion as the place you had come to think of as home was being overwhelmed by flame and heat. You were flung backwards by the force of it, the wind had been knocked out of you as you laid in the soft grass, gasping for breath as you stared at the burning visage of your home. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. Explosion after explosion continued to assault the foundation of everything you had cared about. Your home. You slowly got up onto your knees, your body shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. The angry red hot flame continued to engulf everything around it, and you felt hot tears well up in your eyes. 

You tore your eyes away from the embers, you began to quietly sob as you shuffled on your hands and knees where you saw the outline of John's figure. He was on his knees, his eyes locked into his home, and hands balled tightly into fists. You went to him, and collapsed onto his body, unable to control your tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks. You were in a state of shock, all you could think about was crawling towards the only thing you had left. Your fingers gripped his shirt, desperately clinging to it. 

John didn't look down at you, but slowly wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders. He felt a slobbery wet tongue lick at him, but his gaze remained fixed on his smoldering home. Again, flashes of memories whirled around in his mind, their edges crisping up and falling away. No matter how hard he clutched onto the things he loved, they always managed to fall through his fingers. John slowly began to stand up, pulling your weight as well as his own. 

The deep orange of the fire was reflected in John's dark eyes. A flame had been lit, and anger and a desire for vengeance was seeping into every fiber of his being. This was an act that would not go unpunished.


End file.
